


I'll Fight You For It

by Comtesse



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Abandonment, Altered Mental States, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Friends to Enemies, Graphic Description, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sensuality, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22483273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comtesse/pseuds/Comtesse
Summary: Eschalot was conscripted into the Frieza Force shortly before the destruction of her home world. She has grown up slaughtering planet after planet in a tyrant's name. When she finds she can't bear to keep doing it, when she feels her skills are no longer being tested and the screams of innocents haunt her incessantly, she paves her own way. But what will her former comrades, still under Frieza's thumb, think when they find her - alive?
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta, Chi-Chi/Son Goku (Dragon Ball), Vegeta (Dragon Ball)/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 13





	1. Your Highness

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a series of oneshots. Large timeskips may happen. Chapters may be short if I have just a small scene, something that may be relevant later, or just a scene that tickled my fancy. But be patient. It will make sense eventually. Everything is posted chronologically to the story, though. I will be posting chapters slowly since I have so much to rewatch, and I am writing it waaaay out of order from how it will be posted.

Eschalot hunched forward, sweat dripping from her nose and chin, and took deep, shaky breaths. She couldn't get the images from her last mission out of her head. The screams of terror and the stench of blood followed her, taunted her waking hours and replayed in her dreams. She hated it. For ten ages she had hated it, but she did what she needed to survive. That was her mantra for almost as long as she could remember. Just one more day. Do whatever it takes to survive one more day. Better to survive as a murderer than to die as a weakling. But she felt so small, so powerless, when Zarbon's holier-than-thou gaze fell on her. When Dodoria punched her hard enough to send her through a wall and left her unable to stand. When Frieza so much as looked at her during a meeting. All of it made her feel so sick, so frail, so _afraid_.

"Another round," she called to the training technician. Her tail swished impatiently, adrenaline coursing through her veins. The longer she wasn't fighting, the more the memories of genocide threatened to creep into her waking hours. And she just could not handle that right now. A minute passed by, then two, with no signs of the enriched Saibamen, and Eschalot called to the tech again. "Come on! I don't have all day!"

The intercom crackled lightly and Vegeta's voice came over the loud speakers. "That's enough. Go cool off somewhere."

The Saiyan teen clenched her fist. He had no right to cut her time short. Vegeta was the strongest of them! How could he expect her to get stronger if she couldn't push herself to her breaking point? "No, sir. If I can stand, I can train," she said firmly.

The Saiyan leader was hidden behind the one-way glass, but she had no doubt he was standing there, spectating. Probably glaring through the glass with his arms over his chest like always. "I said you're done, Eschalot."

The teen snarled under her breath and shot a blast of ki at the glass panel. "All due respect, _Your Highness,_ but I'm not done until I say I am. Wait. Your. Turn." Normally she would have ceded to him. She still looked at him like royalty and, for what it was worth, a friend - despite how he had changed since he learned of the meteor that destroyed their home planet. Still, she needed to keep the memories away. She needed to forget about the infant boy screaming in his crib as she snapped his neck, or the daycare she demolished, or the hundreds of thousands of families' lives she stole. She took no pleasure in it like Nappa or Raditz. She couldn't be cold and calculated about it like Vegeta. She just wasn't like that. She was feeble. A runt of an elite that couldn't easily do her job like the others.

The door to the chamber hissed open, Vegeta stepping inside and stomping her way. He stopped inches away from her. She could feel the power radiating from him, his arms indeed crossed in his usual display. He was trying to intimidate her, as he did to Raditz when the taller Saiyan stepped out of line. "It is _my_ turn when _I_ say so."

Eschalot smirked, refusing to let him see the weakness growing in the back of her mind like a tumor, and brushed back her short black hair with a shaky hand. A half step closer brought her almost nose-to-nose with him, close enough to smell the oil in his hair. "I'll fight you for it," she purred.

The prince grinned back, a predator's smile of teeth and determination. "If you have a death wish, I'm happy to oblige."


	2. Only a Job

Eschalot had decided to stop keeping track of planet names and races. It was hard to do at first, but as time wore on it got easier. She had learned to turn her brain off the moment she got a target, to let her body take over and not think about what she was doing. She still knew. She was still guilty of heinous acts. But it was easier when it at least _felt_ like someone else was in control. Disassociation, she had heard it called once. That sounded nice.

Below, a building was on fire, and the Saiyan woman hovered in wait, watching for the moment the people-aliens-whatever-they-were-at-this-point started pouring out. It might have been a school. Maybe a hospital, or just a library. Eschalot really didn't know anymore. Buildings and races and names all blurred together in a hazy set of images. But the sounds and smells, those stayed clear as crystal for a long, _long_ time.

The first head poked out of the building, looking around like a scared animal, and the woman didn't even wait to see what it looked like before blasting it into nothingness. As quick a death as she could give. Through the resulting din of falling debris and detritus, screams could be heard. Somewhere, in the back of her head, she knew that would be the sound in her nightmares tonight. She was screaming, too, in her head. Eschalot couldn't escape the weight of what she was doing and how it felt wrong. How, at the end of every damned day she was a tool for a tyrannical sociopath.

Something moved in the smoke, and the woman prepared to throw another blast, but stopped short. Someone was talking to her from within the smoke - not that she could understand it. Warily she descended into the cloud, wondering if she had accidentally hit Raditz even though he was supposed to be clearing another sector. A stone rocketed from within the cloud, aimed for her eye, but she dodged it with a tilt of her head. She was mildly impressed. Whoever was down there had a good eye, and evidently a knack for mimicry. Usinger her ki to exponentially increase her speed, something she had picked up from watching Lord Frieza, brought her directly in front of the would-be assailant; a, she assumed, male native. She didn't look directly at him. Didn't take note of any of his features. She loosely registered that he was surprised she was in front of him so quickly, that his body was stiff, back too straight. Eshaclot charged up her tail with ki and lashed it at the male's throat, severing his head cleanly from his body.

Someone saw that.

 _People_ saw that.

Eschalot sighed, inaudible over the screams of the innocent bystanders, and held her hands wide, palms facing outward. She had liked Vegeta's Galick Gun, but it was a waste of energy on so many weak targets. So she modified it into the Gatling Cannon. Palm-sized orbs of ki sat in each hand until she was positive she had a headcount of the natives scrambling for the next exit - a stairwell. "27 people. 8 adults, 19 children." Her voice was cold, detached. She aimed for their heads, always focused on killing blows, and fired the blasts one after another in quick succession. She didn't wait for the dust to clear when she moved forward. A crying child had missed her initial count, wailing and screaming. That was another sound sure to be reappearing during her sleep tonight. She walked up to it and looked down. Her disassociation was wearing thin, and she felt the softest urge to just walk away. She shoved the feeling down as much as possible and blasted his face point blank. The wailing died out instantly. Viscera and skull matter splashed against the stairs and up onto her face. She stalked up to the next floor and did the same again. And again.

And again.

The roof was empty, though she noted it was possible some leapt to their deaths in hopes of escaping her. On the off chance that was true, she ascended and peered at the building from high above. There was still someone alive. She could feel it, but not see it. The woman took a deep breath, cupped her hands angled down towards the building, and summoned her ki again. The ball of pure energy, glowing vibrant cyan, grew to a little larger than the size of her head before she released it. "Acid Rain," she muttered, her voice cold and empty. It exploded midair, the result being a widespread hailstorm of ki blasts pummeling the building and ground surrounding it. Once the stone structure was leveled and the life source she felt had faded to nothing, Eschalot took a deep breath and scanned the horizon.

Her quadrant was cleared. No signs of life. Her job was done.

She met up with the other Saiyans back at their ship. "What took so long," Raditz snapped. "We've been waiting for nearly a day. Any longer and we would have left you behind." Unfortunately he was not joking.

She knelt by the fire they had made and ripped a piece of meat from the spit. Tasted like fish of some kind, but she couldn't be sure. "I choose not to waste my energy rampaging around as a giant ape. If I exhaust myself too much when I change back, the rest of my job goes even slower."

Nappa was chewing loudly while he spoke. "Maybe you should get stronger, then, and stop slowing us down."

"Exactly," Raditz piped up. As if he wouldn't be getting the same ridicule if Eschalot wasn't here to take it.

Eschalot lifted her brows and nodded, as if conceding to their remarks. "Alright. I will. Are you strong enough to beat me, yet, Raditz?"

The older man scoffed. "Of course."

Without warning, the woman spun, slamming her tail against his face hard enough to cut it. In the same motion, as her right hand came around, she blasted him in the face with a small but effective shot of power, then followed up with a kick in the side. The flash of motion caught Raditz completely off guard, and after the split second flurry had passed, he was lying on the ground several feet away. Had he been anything short of a Saiyan, there was doubt as to whether or not he would still be alive. She loomed over him, tail lashing side to side, and the deadness of her eyes was unnerving to the downed man. He figured there should have been anger, or smugness, but instead he saw nothing when he met her gaze. It creeped him out every time he saw it. "Next time," she warned. "Put your skill where your mouth is."

Vegeta frowned at the display. It was rare for Eschalot to lose her temper, being more even-keeled than the other Saiyans on the Force. She also had a tendency for compassion once a job was finished, and this job was certainly finished. She must have run into a strong opponent or something similar for her to be so easily aggravated. He didn't mention his thoughts on her sudden change of temperament, however. As far as he was concerned, whatever made her stronger, whatever showed her prowess as an Elite Saiyan, was enough for him. If Raditz needed a reminder of hierarchy, and of Eschalot's speed that made her a force to be reckoned with, that was not Vegeta's problem. The prince rose to his feet, bored out of his skull with the planet ever since they arrived. "Enough. Let's report back, already."

Eschalot followed him silently, not even bothering to give Raditz a glance as she passed him. Her tail twitched in mild irritation, though, which she made sure the older Saiyan saw. She didn't care that he was a Low-Class Saiyan. Nor that he was older and technically stronger than her by a very, _very_ slim margin. What she did care about was that, if he was going to be a pissant, she would not take it sitting down. She hated her job, but it was what she had done ever since she was a child. Her work was thorough and efficient. She would not let it be badmouthed by an ill-tempered man-child. Besides, this was the last job she was going to do. She had learned a new skill recently and expected to put it to use very soon.

She just hoped it wouldn't kill her in the end.


	3. A Gut Feeling

Eschalot's ass was thoroughly kicked.

Ion, a well-muscled man with dark skin and a shock of white hair, was not a match for her if she didn't handicap herself; but his hand-to-hand was much cleaner than hers. She was still learning to read the human's body language; he seemed to keep changing it with every fight. She liked the challenge, though. In exchange for teaching her to clean up her manual fighting, she taught him what he could learn about ki. He couldn't perform blasts like she could, nor use it to fly, but somehow it enhanced his sparring. He seemed to slowly be getting faster as well. Or maybe his perception was getting sharper. She really didn't know, but she was amused by his capacity to learn something foreign to him.

She finished wrapping the bandage around her left wrist, sprained from blocking with an open palm instead of parrying, and took a deep breath. After spending so long on the Frieza Force, she was no stranger to everyone being merciless whenever they thought they could get away with it. Here, though, she had to convince Ion to give it his all. He initially took it slow, possibly because she was a woman, possibly because she was young. Eschalot had no idea. She assured him she would not go easy on him, and the giant of a man just laughed. When she nearly broke his leg with a blast of ki, he took her much more seriously. A year had passed since then, and she still felt bad about the times she nearly killed him in the beginning. He was a bandit, but he was also a good man. A good fighter. For a human.

The other thing that was so odd about the people that had found her on Fortun was that they _cared_ about her. After sparring, Ion always made sure to check on her, and over time she began to do the same for him. She had vaguely bonded with Akriel and Sarded, natives to the planet unlike the human Ion, after training; with Moro and Dalia over cooking, something she never had a chance to learn until coming to Fortun. In the last year she had made more friends than over her lifetime.

They _were_ friends, weren't they?

"What is it with you, anyway?" He was sitting on the couch in the clan's common area, lazily turning the pages of a book.

The Saiyan wiped her face with the towel around her neck. "What do you mean?" Of course she knew what he meant. He had asked her the same question multiple times throughout their acquaintanceship. Still, the Eschalot wasn't sure if she wanted to answer him or not.

Ion placed his book in his lap and furrowed his brow. He knew she was avoiding the question. "When you fight, it's like you're a completely different person. Out here you're easy going and light, but man. Once you get going, even just for a sparring match, you're all business. If you were any more relentless, I would say you were trying to kill your opponent every time."

Eschalot dropped her head a bit and looked at the ground. She was thankful no one else seemed to be awake. It was sometime during the smallest morning hours. That much was her saving grace. This conversation was going to get heavy. Eschalot could just feel it. She wanted to answer this time. She wanted to talk to someone who might understand.

But how much should she tell him?

How much _could_ she tell him?

She had faked her death nearly a year ago, abandoned the only life she had known since she was a small child. Part of her regretted leaving Vegeta, Raditz, and Nappa behind, but something told her they wouldn't leave. Not that she blamed them. If not for her absolute certainty that Frieza was lying, that _he_ had been the one to destroy her home planet, she never would have left, either. She could have been wrong, however. It really could have been a meteor. As it was, Frieza was smart. He might well have been looking for her, convinced she wasn't dead. Eschalot hoped such was not the case. "I told you," she sighed. "I used to be a soldier."

"In what army?" He was laughing, but his question was almost adamant. "I was a soldier, too, before defecting. The only people I've seen fight like you do were a bunch of thugs with god complexes. Ruthless bastards." Ion shook his head. "Besides, what army would even take you? You're barely an adult, now. The only way you would have been drafted for as long as you say you were is if-"

"If I was a child soldier?" She cut him off. They had had this conversation many times before, and every time Eschalot had never given him details. But over the last year, he had made it clear he could be trusted. He even trusted her, demonstrated when things went wrong during one of their raids. Ion was cornered and bleeding out. The villagers had firearms leveled at him and were closing in. Eschalot had come back after arguing with him, just in time to take out a few of the villagers and scare the rest off. He said he knew she would come back. That he was waiting for her. Back then, the Saiyan just scoffed and helped him to his feet. Now she was softer with him. He was the closest thing she'd had to a father figure in ages. Sadness laced her voice and crept around the corners of her eyes. "I was."

Ion's forehead creased as he frowned. "How old were you when you were conscripted?"

She grabbed a canteen of water and sat opposite of him on the couch. "Five or so, like most others." Eschalot leaned forward, placing her forearms on her knees, and stared at the floor. "My team was frequently sent out to clear out planets so they could be sold. Innocent or not, every inhabitant had to be culled. Even our babies are sent out, if the inhabitants of the planet are judged to be weak enough. But we grow quickly. We are strong when we are young, able to defend ourselves after only a few years. It's just," she shrugged. "Our way of life."

Ion was sitting upright, now, staring at her. He had no right to judge. He probably had one of the highest body counts out of the whole clan. But Eschalot was talking about repeated total genocide for money. And that probably paid well. "And you did it?"

"I had no choice." That was what she told herself for about a decade. She had no choice. Didn't she? "I didn't want to die. And even if I did, the price for insolence wasn't guaranteed to be a quick death. I wanted to at least leave the women and children to the others, but my job was my job. Slack off, make mistakes, anything short of perfection was harshly punished." She closed her eyes, feeling the tears beginning to well up and her face growing hot. She could hear the other Saiyans in her head, calling her weak for feeling, let alone showing such emotion, but this moment had been a long time coming. She had been living within Ion's bandit clan for a long time, nearly a year, if not a little more. She needed to be honest with him, and with herself. "I still hear them at night, on my bad nights. The screaming, the smell of burning flesh, all of it. When I'm fighting, I can escape it. I can shut it away and pretend it never happened. Just shut my mind off and let my body work"

He grunted in agreement. As a former soldier, himself, he understood exactly what she was talking about. "Which is why you train day in and day out. So your body _can_ work while your mind is shut off."

"Yeah," she sighed.

"How did you get out?"

Her laugh was dry and somehow had. Why was she sad? She had no reason to be sad. "Blew up half the ship. You know that ki I've been teaching you about? While flying, it can form a pocket of air around you. Doesn't have enough oxygen to last very long until you get _really_ good at it, but it was enough to get me here."

"So," he started, glancing her way. "What planet were you from originally?"

"Vegeta. I had planned on going back there to see what was left of it, but decided against it. There's nothing waiting for me there but the life that never was. The official story was a meteor, but my gut tells me different. I think it was my former employer."

He rubbed his chin in thought. He had heard of that planet while he was traveling for the army. Heard a lot of rough stories, too. After seeing her in action, it made sense why his commander told them to steer clear of that planet. "Then that makes you a Saiyan, doesn't it? Do all Saiyans have tails like you?" He hadn't noticed it when she first arrived. It was always wrapped around her hips like a fuzzy belt. But after a few months of living with them, she started to relax, letting it hang now and again. He had even learned to read it as a secondary form of sign language.

She nodded, still afraid to meet his eyes. She was stupid for letting herself get so visibly upset in front of her superior. But she wanted to trust him. She wanted to feel at least a little closer to _someone_.

"Listen. Do you know how I ended up on Fortune?"

The woman nodded. "You abandoned your post and figured this was the last place they would find you, close enough to Earth that they wouldn't think to find you here, but far enough away that you don't have to hide your face."

"Aye, and?" he prodded her.

She thought for a minute, brown drawn down as she chewed on her cheek. "You don't miss your kind?" she said, unsure.

"Correct. I saw the worst humans have to offer, doing it because they enjoyed it. And because of that, I look at all humans as greedy, selfish children. But you haven't had that experience. All you know is what you were told to do, and - like you said - Saiyans are conscripted young. I think you should go to West City on Earth. It's past the asteroid belt and is the only blue and green planet that side of the belt." He straightened his back, picking up his book. "A long time ago, I met a kid with a tail named Goku. He won the 23rd World Martial Arts Tournament a few years back. Totally kicked my teeth in. Maybe you'll find what you're looking for there."

Eschalot peered at him, eyes red from pressure, from recalling her former purpose in life. "What I'm looking for?"

Ion chuckled and rose to his feet. "Just something I can feel in my gut, kiddo. Go or not, it's up to you. But if you want my opinion? If I was in your shoes, I'd want to see what good humans had to offer before doing what I did."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Don't forget to comment, lovelies.
> 
> This has kinda become a study of Saiyan lifestyle and nature vs nurture, as well as the effect of Frieza's rule over Vegeta and Eschalot. Tags have been updated for possible PTSD and mental illness.


End file.
